


Spare Change

by violethuntertheirregular



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Love, Romance, movies - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 19:32:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1829653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violethuntertheirregular/pseuds/violethuntertheirregular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follows the story of Jamie Rebecca Barnes and Steve Rogers through the movies with a bit of violet hunter flair. enjoy. It's pretty cute, but with some sad bits because it kinda has to have them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spare Change

“Ratatatat! Nee-nor-nee-nor!” I small girl of about four or five ran down the uneven pavement of Brooklyn, shouting at the top of her lungs, her brunette curls streaming behind her.

“Help me! I’ve been shot!” A boy of about the same age lay dramatically on the ground, his head inches from a puddle that would have turned his blonde hair brown with mud.

“Don’t worry sir, I’m with the Red Crosses, I can help, I can help!” The girl broke character for a moment with a giggle before pressing her lips together in a straight line. She knelt, putting the boy’s head in her lap.

“Oh! Nurse! It hurts!” The boy held back a giggle as he writhed in play agony. 

“Where does it hurt, soldier?” The girl roughly pushed his bangs from his forehead as if taking a temperature.

“Everywhere!” The boy shrieked.

“But Steven, you can’t hurt everywhere. Choose something else!” The girl pouted, and the boy, Steven, sat up.

“Yeah I can, Jamie. My granny says she hurts all over sometimes.” Steven huffed, crossing his arms.

“And don’t call me Jamie. I don’t like it.” The girl, Jamie, snapped.

“Ok, what’s your middle name?” Steven brushed the hair from his eyes.

“Rebecca, but I don’t like that either.” Jamie sighed.

“What about Becky?” Steven proposed.

“Ick!” Jamie stuck out her tongue.

“Ok, Bucky then?” Steve replied.

“I do like that one, I do I do!” Jamie grinned, clapping happily.

“Bucky it is. As long as you promise to call me Steve.” Steven smiled.

“Deal! Now where were we, Steve?” Jamie twisted her lip.

“I was hurting everywhere and you were my nurse, Nurse Bucky of the Red Crosses!” Steve tumbled back onto Bucky’s lap, and the game resumed.

…

“Pops says that when we’re all grown up, there’s going to be another war.” Steve noted solemnly, folding the newspaper into a hat, which he placed delicately on Bucky’s head. It fell down over her eyes, so she was just a nose, mouth, and two braids.

“When’s all grown up?” She sighed, tugging on her braids.

“Oh I don’t know, when we’re twenty three. That seems old enough.” Steve replied knowingly.

“Will the army take away our fort?” Bucky pushed the hat to the back of her head and gestured to the attic they had named as headquarters of S.H.I.E.L.D. or Secret Hiding In Eliza Livingston’s Dollhouse. It was the best acronym they could think of for the attic filled with Bucky’s stepsister’s disused dolls.

“I don’t think they’ll take away S.H.I.E.L.D. What use does the army have for a bunch of smelly old dolls?” Steve nudged a porcelain doll with a crack in its cheek with his shoe.

“Target practice?” Bucky grinned, and the two of them laughed before Steve made a serious face.

“If there was a war, would you fight in it?” He twirled his thumbs absentmindedly.

“I-I probably would. Except girls aren’t allowed.” Bucky sighed.

“But you wouldn’t make me go alone, would you?” Steve looked scared for a brief moment.

“Of course not! I could be like Joan of Arc or something, dress up like a boy. Nobody would notice.” Bucky’s tone lifted significantly at the idea.

“Promise?” Steve spat on his palm and stuck out his hand to shake.

“I’ll be with you ‘til the end of the line.” Bucky repeated the gesture, and they shook hands.

…

“Come on Steve, it’ll be grand, all of us dancing together!” Bucky called up to Steve’s balcony, her arm linked with her date’s and her friend just beside them.

“Oh I don’t know, I’m a terrible dancer.” Steve shouted back.

“It’ll be fun! You can be Margret’s date!” Bucky called back, not realizing that the girl beside her was gesturing ‘no’.

“I suppose you need a dance partner in order to go dancing, don’t you?” Steve looked down at Margaret, who was rather pretty after all, with nice blonde hair and brown eyes.

“ Please Steve!” Bucky swished her tasseled dress back and forth, which made her (almost) immaculate bob bounce happily. Bucky’s date took a dance down the front of her dress and gave Steve a malicious wink.

“I’ll be down in a flash, just let me get changed!” Steve had never dressed so quickly in his life, and probably wouldn’t ever again. He sprinted down the stairs, pulling a comb through his hair and calling to his grandparents that he was going out.

“Oh I’m so glad you’re coming with!” Bucky gushed, still clinging safely to her date. Steve went up to Margaret and offered his arm. She scuttled off in the other direction, namely towards Bucky’s date.

“Yeah, me too.” Steve narrowed his eyebrows for a moment, in an attempt to scrutinize the man on Bucky’s arm.

“Chris.” The young man stuck out his hand to shake.

“Steve, if that wasn’t already clear.” Steve replied, accepting the handshake. Chris was about twice his size and probably an excellent dancer.

“Perfect. Let’s go!” Bucky fairly dragged Chris along as they made their way to the Empress, the best dance club in Brooklyn. And Bucky had been right, the evening was rather grand.

…

“Steve! Stevestevestevestevesteve!” Bucky knocked repeatedly on the door to Steve’s apartment. When his grandmother opened the door, Bucky ducked inside and ran all the way to Steve’s room and threw herself in his arms, sobbing.

“What happened, are you alright?” Steve, though at first shocked by Bucky’s entrance, put his arms around her.

“Chris—“ She let out a sob, “he’s been seeing other girls on the side. He said—“ She gulped, “—he said that I wasn’t his best girl, I was his worst, and he didn’t want to see my stupid face anymore!” Bucky sobbed again, weeping great tears into Steve’s shirt. He ran his hand through her hair, that she had begun to grow long again, and rocked her back and forth.

“Shh, it’s alright, it’s alright.” Steve crooned softly. His grandparents loitered outside the door with questioning glances, but he shooed them away.

“No! It’s not! I’m the worst! I’m worse than the worst, I’m terrible!” Bucky gasped miserably.

“ Bucky,” Steve paused while his friend let out another sob, “Bucky listen to me.” She nodded. “ You are the best, most wonderful girl I have ever met. Ok? Don’t you forget it. You’re my best girl.” Teary blue-green eyes met clear blue, and Bucky gave Steve a small smile.

“I told Chris that Margaret would probably give him some sort of nasty disease.” Bucky sniffled.

“She probably would, that old broad.” Steve chuckled.

“I also told him that I hoped it would make his entire body shrivel up like a prune.” Bucky added.

“Did you really say that?” Steve smiled.

“Yeah. In the middle of the diner he and Margaret were necking at. Who necks at a diner anyhow?” Bucky giggled slightly into Steve’s chest.

“You really had them on the ropes, didn’t you?” Steve ran his hand through her hair again.

“I think I did.”

…

“Bucky! Look at this!” Steve shoved a newspaper in her face once she opened the door of her dormroom.

“Let me read it, you idiot.” She took it from him and began to read, leaning against the doorframe as if she needed the support.

“Can you believe it? The boys are going wild just thinking about it.” Steve was practically bubbling with excitement.

“War in Europe. I guess your pops was right.” Bucky replied gravely. 

“Well, we still have three more years until we’re proper grown-ups, don’t we?” Steve winked, flooding Bucky with memories of sitting in an overstuffed attic.

“Steve,” Bucky paused as if she wanted to say something else, but changed her mind, “There’s no way they’ll let me fight. The best I could be is a nurse or an ambulance driver.”

“But you’re practically the best engineer in our class, they’ll know you can do better than that.” Steve’s smile was slowly fading.

“That’s not really how it works.” Bucky smoothed down her flowered dress with shaking fingers.

“So what are you going to do when we get caught up in it?” Steve turned his head slightly in question.

“I’m, not sure. All I do know is that I’m not gonna let you go out there alone. You wouldn’t make it three days without me.” Bucky grinned, bringing a smile to Steve’s lips.

“I mean seriously, Bucky, the Germans are going to go running in the other direction when they see me coming.” Steve flexed his skinny arms and they both laughed, hearts significantly lighter.

…

“With all due respect, Mr. Stark, are you sure this is going to work?” Bucky wrung her hands worriedly. Her uniform, that she had put on for the first time today, felt tight across her chest, and her fingers ached from hours of working with the Enigma machine. “Has it been tested before?”

“Yes, absolutely, doll.” Howard Stark flashed her a confident grin.

“Absolutely?” Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“Eighty-five percent,” Howard qualified, “Alright people! Are we good to go?” He bustled off to turn a few dials and check some meter. Steve caught Bucky’s eye and she carefully made her way over to where he and the good doctor were talking quietly.

“How’s the soldier?” She gave Steve a winning smile, which quickly faded. “Are you sure you want to do this? We could find someone else, heck, I could go.” Bucky shifted uncomfortably from side to side.

“Tell her what you told me.” Dr. Erskine glanced knowingly between Steve and Bucky.

“If it means I can help our country win the war, I want to do it. Yeah, I might be a bit scared, but you know I don’t give up because of that.” Steve gave Bucky a half-smile.  
“You don’t give up because of anything.” Bucky held back tears as Howard sauntered over.

“Let’s go. America’s waiting.” Howard nodded at the congregation of military officials in the viewing box above. “Clear the room!” He announced loudly before lowering his voice once more and turning to Bucky. “You too, doll, there’s going to be all sorts of radiation bouncing around here, and you don’t have a drop of leaded cloth, patent Stark Industries, to protect you.” Stark laughed a little at his own joke. “But in all seriousness, the gamma rays have some pretty monstrous results if used incorrectly.”

“Oh, of course.” Bucky decided not to mention the fact she had taken secondary particle physics at NYU. “Good luck.” She squeezed Steve’s hand, then marched quickly out of the room. When she reached the viewing box, she was immediately pulled aside by a man in civilian clothes. 

“Miss Barnes?” He queried.

“Private Barnes, 107th Codebreaking Division.” Bucky replied almost sharply.

“Yes, Private Barnes, would you please come with me?” He gestured to the door on the opposite side of the viewing box that led to an antique store, the front for this operation.

“They’re in the middle of the procedure. That’s my friend in there. Can it wait?” Bucky glanced over the man’s shoulder and caught a glimpse of Steve strapped into a metal contraption that looked frighteningly like a coffin.

“Orders from up top. You’re needed.” The man replied ambiguously.

“I’m pretty sure that ‘up top’ is all here.” Bucky noted. In response, the man opened his coat slightly to display a luger pistol. A man’s shout of pain echoed over the microphone and the observers crowded the glass, shielding everything from view. Bucky moved to see what was going on, but the man grabbed her arm. 

“If you make a scene, I will be forced to use this. And we wouldn’t want that, would we, Miss Barnes?” He rearranged his coat so that it once more covered the gun, but Bucky wasn’t going to bet against his quick-draw skills. Silently cursing herself that she hadn’t taken disarming classes, forgoing them for cover training, Bucky let the man shepherd her down the stairs. There was a loud bang from the viewing room, and Bucky guessed that it probably wasn’t champagne. The man pushed forwards into the antique store, and Bucky almost screamed when she saw the bleeding frame of the storeowner sprawled on the ground.

“Where—where are you taking me?” Bucky gulped as the man forced her out of the store and into a waiting car. “Who are you?” The man snapped handcuffs on her wrists and climbed into the passenger seat. He turned around and gave Bucky an evil grin.

“We are Hydra. Cut off one head, and two more shall take its place. A very important man is dying to meet you. You will have so much to talk about.”

…

“What do you mean, Private Barnes is missing? Where did she go?” Steve winced as the nurse pulled another shard of glass from his foot.

“That’s the problem. She’s not anywhere.” Colonel Phillips rolled his cap in his hands, waiting for the nurse to finish her work. Finally, she pulled out the last shards, bathed his foot in alcohol, then dashed out of the room without saying a word.

“What are you implying?” Steve’s expression steeled, which was much more intimidating now that he was six foot two and intensely muscled.

“There are two possible scenarios. Scenario one, Private Barnes was Hydra all along and helped orchestrate the attack.” The colonel seemed to accept this allegation as the truth.

“Impossible. I’ve known her since we were young, I certainly would have noticed if she was working for Hydra.” Steve snapped.

“The second scenario is possibly worse.” The colonel’s expression softened minutely. “The shooting and theft of the super soldier serum was a diversion destined to fail so another member of Hydra could take Barnes, an advanced codebreaker familiar with both the Enigma and with the serum, so they could use her assets for nefarious purposes.”

“She would never tell them anything!” Steve replied indignantly.

“She has no training in self-defense, nor in endurance under torture. Eventually she would crack.” The colonel began to pace angrily. 

“They wouldn’t dare torture a woman, would they?” Steve sat up like a bolt and tried to get up, but the colonel pushed him back.

“I would not put anything past them.”

…

Bucky closed her eyes and screamed underwater. Her heels skittered in a hope to find traction on the slick floor, and her pantyhose were torn beyond repair. Just when she thought she was going to have to inhale the icy water, the rough hands on the back of her head release, and she pushed herself out of the water.

“Now, fräulein,” the man who had been holding her face-down in the tank of water let her sit on the ground while he retrieved a handkerchief from his breast pocket. He moved towards her and she flinched, but he extended the handkerchief and wiped the mascara off from under her eyes. “Will you tell me the code for this week’s Enigma?” Bucky shook her head, “How about what you know regarding the super soldiers. How many of them are there? Is there any way to extract the formula from someone who has already had a transfusion?” Bucky, though her expressions did not display it, was shocked. This man, whoever the hell he was, was asking all the right questions, questions she knew the answer to. Though not directly connected with the super soldier project, she had often coded and sent secret communiqués, and was at one point considering signing up for the program herself.

“I will never tell you.” Bucky spat in an attempt not to look entirely defeated.

“What a pity.” The man smiled as he roughly picked Bucky up and shoved her face into the basin once more.

…

“This is ridiculous. I should be out there trying to help, trying to find Bucky!” Steve gestured maniacally at his tri-colored outfit and star-spangled shield.

“This is the best you can do right now for the war effort. I promise you we have our best men on the job looking for Becky.” Senator Brandt hated lying to the boy, but Captain America was far too popular to be put out of commission now.

“Bucky. Her name is Bucky.” Steve snapped.

“Same thing.” Senator Brandt waved his hand dismissively.

“What about the front lines? I’m fast, I’m strong, you’ve seen me lift a motorcycle with three girls on it over my head without breaking a sweat. That kind of strength is being wasted. Imagine what I could do as a real soldier.” Steve almost slammed his fist against the wall, but hesitated, knowing that he would punch a hole straight through.

“Ok kid, how about I make you a deal? A month more touring around the States, and then we can send you overseas to boost the morale of the troops. Does that sound good to you?” Senator Brandt stuck out his hand to shake, and Steve accepted grudgingly.

“It’s a deal.” Steve gave the senator his best smile, hiding the plan that was already tumbling through his brain. Dr. Erskine had mentioned his previous experiments before his death. If they were keeping Bucky because of the serum, Schmidt would be there too. And Schmidt was relatively simple to track. There was a knock at the door, disrupting Steve’s train of thought.

“Captain, you’re on in five.” A woman’s voice chirped.

“Be right there.” Steve buttoned up his uniform and grabbed his shield.

“Hey kid,” The senator called just as Steve was about to leave, “Give Hitler a good beating for me.”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Steve rolled his eyes then stepped into the hall, just as the national anthem began to play.

…

Bucky leaned against the wall of her cell, taking in the few hours of quiet before her torment would continue. Her left cheekbone was throbbing where the guard had hit her, and she hoped it wasn’t broken. So far, she had refused to say anything, save snappy comebacks, to her tormentors, but she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand the pain and solitude. She took a deep breath and almost smiled. Steve would be proud of her for hanging on this long, and would have told her to keep fighting, granted that he was still alive. Fat tears rolled down her cheek of their own volition and she held back sobs.

“Mademoiselle,” A hoarse voice whispered, shocking Bucky out of her reverie, “Mademoiselle, are you—qu’est-que c’est le mot—alright?”

“Where are you?” Bucky whispered, glancing around the stone cell furtively, drying her eyes.

“Ici, um, here. On the other side of the wall.” The voice replied. Bucky looked up at the barred window that separated the two cells. It was too high to see through from her position, but sound carried quite well.

“Oh, I see.” Bucky noted, glad to finally have someone to talk to.

“Are they treating you poorly?” The voice asked again.

“You could say that.” Bucky gasped as she tried to stand. She definitely had a broken rib somewhere.

“Those bastards, I swear, once we get out of here, they’re gonna get a taste of their own medicine.” Another voice, this one obviously American, spat.

“Oh, there’s more than one of you in there?” Bucky called quietly.

“Five total, love, and you wouldn’t believe the mix. You’d think we were from a pamphlet for racial equality.” Yet another voice, this one with a British accent, whispered back.

“Who are you, how long have you been in here?” Bucky gave up her attempt to stand and scrambled on her elbows over to the window.

“Tim Duncan, but you can call me ‘Dum-Dum.’” The American piped gruffly, “been here about a month.”

“Gabe Jones,” Another American replied, but his voice carried the tone of a well-educated black man. “Around six weeks.”

“James Montgomery Falsworth,” the Brit added, “One point five months.”

“Jim Norita, what’s it been, eight weeks?” An American with a California accent replied nonchalantly.

“Je ne sais pas, seven weeks?” This was the Frenchman, “Oh, et je m’appelle Jacques Dernier.” 

“How about you?” Jones crooned, his voice smooth like chocolate. 

“Six.” Bucky forced a smile to keep herself from crying.

“Weeks?” Norita snorted.

“Months.” Bucky corrected, and there was a collective gasp on the other side of the wall.

“Well damn, you’re tougher than the lot of us.” Dugan whistled.

“Why haven’t we heard you before today, love?” Falsworth queried.

“I was moved here just last night. They said if I wasn’t going to give information, I would be useful in the trials. Whatever fresh hell that is.” Bucky pulled at a stray thread on her blouse. Her clothes were becoming very worn, and although the water torture washed her well enough, she longed for a bar of soap and a hot shower.

“Oh pauvre cherie.” The Frenchman sighed.

“What? What is it?” Bucky was suddenly overwhelmed by panic, and crawled up onto the bunk beneath the window and turned to reach through. “What are the trials?” There was a pause on the other side. 

“Some variety of human testing. All we know is that the ones who go in tend not to return.” Jones’ soft voice was unable to mask the weight of his message. In fact, he spoke slowly, as if already mourning her passing. Bucky grabbed the window ledge and pulled herself to her feet so she was standing on the bunk. She couldn’t see over the ledge, but her fingernails scrabbled on the stone.

“Hey, doll, don’t fret. You’re gonna be alright, ok?” Norita replied, seeming a bit uncomfortable. There was some quiet conversation on the other side. “Here, take this, you’ll be warmer.” A navy-colored jacket was pushed through the bars and landed on Bucky’s head. Disoriented by the sudden darkness, she fell back onto the bunk, her rib aching.

“Thank you.” Bucky sighed, pulling the jacket off her head and inspecting it. It was double-breasted, in a generally featureless navy blue. The only design was a large, red star on the left shoulder. “But where the hell did you find a Soviet jacket?”

“Who cares, all I know is the Russians make damn good ones.” Norita chuckled. Bucky carefully slipped into the jacket and buttoned it up to her chest. It was a bit big, but Bucky couldn’t help but agree: the Russians did make damn good jackets.

…

“Get up!” A harsh voice yelled, waking Bucky from a dreamless sleep. She sat up as quickly as possible, expecting punishment if she did otherwise. Instead, a pile of clothes was thrown at her feet. “Get dressed.” The guard demanded, and Bucky looked up with an inquiring expression.

“Will you leave while I undress?” She asked.

“No. Change your clothes or I will for you.” The guard snapped. Bucky sighed, then turned around and unbuttoned her blouse and skirt, allowing the limp cloth to fall to the ground. The man stepped closer to her and put his hands on her waist. Bucky turned around and landed a punch across the man’s jaw that sent him reeling. As he was recuperating, she put on the green, long-sleeved shirt and khaki canvas pants. She was just lacing up the boots when the man’s palm connected with her cheek.

“What’s the schedule today, Fritz?” Bucky grinned despite herself, grabbing her old blue jacket and slinging it on.

“I’m supposed to treat you carefully, as you have a procedure today. Otherwise you would be a bleeding mess on the floor, you understand?” The guard snapped.

“A procedure?” Bucky rolled her shoulders, glad for the warmth and covering the new clothes supplied. Granted, they weren’t really new, most likely taken from a dead American soldier, but the belt had enough holes to hold the pants up, and the boots didn’t move around her feet, so they would have to do.

“I believe you are familiar with—what is it in English—the uber soldier serum, no?” The guard shoved Bucky out of the cell and down the hall.

“Not personally.” Bucky tried not to gasp when her rib smarted.

“You will soon enough.” The guard gave her a smile that carried no joy as he unlocked the door to what appeared to be some sort of doctor’s office. A short, stumpy little man with spectacles and a bowtie was just rolling up the sleeves of his lab coat. The guard took off Bucky’s coat and tossed it unceremoniously to the floor.

“Ah, welcome, fräulein.” The man rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Bucky did not give him the liberty of her reply as the guard forcefully strapped her to an operating table. Normally, she would have resisted, but the pain in her chest was too much. The guard was sent out and the little man walked over to a tray filled with syringes. Choosing one seemingly at random, he tapped out the bubbles and approached Bucky. “You needn’t be frightened, fräulein, I am a man of science. Everything we do here will be for the better of mankind.” Bucky noticed that there was someone standing in the shadows, his face not a face, but a grinning skull.

“Then you’d better ditch the bowtie. I promise you, mankind is better off without you wearing one.” Bucky tried to laugh, but the straps were too tightly bound against her chest.

“Oh, you insult me. This is good, high morale is paramount.” The doctor fingered his bowtie nonetheless. “Now, shall we get started?” With that, he stuck the needle into Bucky’s arm and injected the entire syringe of blue liquid into her veins. The effect was almost immediate. Bucky shrieked as her entire body was wracked with pain. The skull-headed man came into brief focus, the crimson of his skin wrinkling as his lips pulled back in a smile. The doctor, unaffected, took note of her reaction then prepared the next syringe.

“You’re—“ Bucky stammered, “—you’re a monster.” She writhed on the table, straining against the straps, eyes fixed on the skull.

“Oh, fräulein, this is merely the beginning.” The doctor stroked Bucky’s cheek as he administered the next round of injections, ignoring her anguished screams.

…

“Where is she? Where is Bucky Barnes?” Steve demanded, “She’s the only dame in this hell-hole, and non of you have heard of her?” Steve tossed to cell keys to a freed soldier, who began to unlock the rest of the cells. “Unless this is the wrong camp like the last ones. But I was sure of it, all the signs pointed—“

“Captain America!” A French-accented voice called.

“Yes?” Steve turned towards the voice, whose owner had pushed his way through the crowd.

“Captain, there was a woman in the cell next to ours pour quelques jours. She wouldn’t say her name, but is she the person you are looking for?” The Frenchman waved over his former cellmates, who made a communal sound of agreement.

“Do you know where they took her?” Steve tried to remain calm, but was becoming more and more anxious by the second.

“One of the doctors has a hobby of experimenting on POWs. And they have this nasty habit of never returning.” An American dusted off his bowler hat.

“I’m going to look anyway. Tell me, where are these experiments held?” Steve glanced around for another exit.

“The sixth floor, Hallway X, but don’t get your hopes up.” The American replied.

“Alright boys, make your way outside and I’ll meet you once I’ve found her.” Steve ordered, and the hall became a frenzy of motion, with the crowd going one way, out, and Steve going the other, deeper into the building.

…

“No, I won’t tell you. No I won’t tell you. No I won’t tell you. No I wont tell y—“

“Bucky! Oh my god what have they done to you?” Steve quickly unbuckled the straps. Bucky looked around, dazed.

“Who, who are you?” She mumbled.

“Steve.” He helped her into a blue jacket with a red star that he had found on the floor.

“Steve!” Bucky melted into his arms.

“Oh, Bucky, I thought you were dead.” Steve helped her stand up. She stumbled then looked up at him.

“I thought you were smaller.” She mumbled as Steve steadied her and they began to walk. As they moved, Bucky began to regain her strength and lucidity. “What happened to you?”

“I joined the army.” Steve chuckled. “Now let’s get out of here.” Bucky nodded adamantly and stumbled after her friend. They reached the end of the hallway within a few minutes, but found the doors locked. Suddenly, two Hydra agents appeared from around the corner and began to open fire. If Bucky hadn’t been fully awake before then, she certainly was now. Steve jumped into the fray, and was shocked to find Bucky hot at his heels. As Steve engaged the agent who had a flamethrower, Bucky fought a man she recognized all too well. Her former guard went flying as she kicked him in the chest with a strength that neither she nor Steve realized she had. Confident after a few moments that the Hydra agents were somewhere within the range of dead an unconscious, the duo paused to formulate a plan. Steve took the agents’ weapons and handed one to Bucky. “Do you know how to use this thing?” In response, Bucky aimed the gun at the lock on the door and fired, blowing the door off of its hinges.

“I think so.” Bucky grinned, stepping through the smoking hole the door had left behind.

“I though you didn’t take combat training. Or at least that’s what Colonel Phillips said.” Steve noted as they made their way downstairs.

“The colonel was sorely misinformed as to my role. I wasn’t just a codebreaker, Steve; I was in training for a new division. Simply, I was going to be a spy.” Bucky was still weak but gaining strength.

“A spy? And you didn’t tell me?” Steve shot a Hydra agent, who fell quite dramatically off the ledge.

“It was just initial physical training. There was no guarantee I was actually going to be chosen. Also, telling you is technically treason. But I am sorry. You’re my best friend, I—“ Bucky gasped suddenly as the pain in her chest returned.

“Are you alright?” Steve demanded, his brief moment of incredulity evaporated.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Bucky wheezed as she collapsed in a dead faint.

…

Bucky was moving at an ungainly pace. She could feel it even as she was just regaining consciousness.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.” An Asian American whose voice she recalled grinned as she opened her eyes. On her other side was a man clad in the classic burgundy beret of British troops.

“How’s the princess?” The Brit smiled. Bucky took in her surroundings, and realized that she was moving because the two soldiers were supporting her legs with a rifle and holding her upright with her arms around their shoulders.

“What happened? Where’s Steve? Is he alright?” Bucky would have tried to stand if they would only stop moving. But the trio was in the middle of a crowd of soldiers in various states of disrepair.

“Steve? You mean your friend Captain America? Yeah he’s fine. He’s in front right now leading the march back to base.” Norita indicated forward with his head.

“Let me down.” Bucky demanded suddenly.

“But you’re hurt, love.” Falsworth noted.

“Do I look like I give a damn?” Bucky’s voice was as cool and as strong as steel. The soldiers helping her looked at each other. “Let me see Steve Rogers.”

“Alright doll, but the second you fall over, we’re carrying you the rest of the way.” Norita replied uncharacteristically kindly. The two soldiers stopped and helped Bucky stand, and handed her the rifle they had been using to hold up her legs. It took a moment for her to be sure on her feet, but the moment she was, Bucky stumbled and ran through the sea of people in search of her friend. Finally, almost out of breath, and swallowing down the dull pain in her chest, Bucky almost ran into Steve’s back when he paused to check his compass.

“Steve!” Bucky smiled widely as he turned around in time to see her almost slam into him.

“Oh thank god you’re awake!” Steve picked up Bucky by her waist and spun her around. “I was so worried.”

“Don’t be, soldier. I always was stronger than you.” Bucky giggled.

“Oh you’d better believe it.” Steve winked, then called over some of the men. “Hey boys, come and meet Bucky Barnes, the bravest dame you will ever set our eyes upon!” Bucky shook hands with a few of the men, but their names danced from her mind as they picked up the march once more. Bucky fell in amongst her new comrades, standing as proudly as any soldier.

“So, Captain America, what’s the plan for when we get back to base?” Bucky put ironic emphasis on Steve’s title.

“The room I found you in had a map with the locations of all the Hydra factories. Our next move will be to take them out, one by one.” Steve shifted the shield on his back, the metal already puckered with bullet marks.

“You’re going to need a team, a highly specialized one at that.” Bucky noted, slowly beginning to blend in with the other soldiers around her. Even with her distinctly feminine features, it was clear that she belonged.

“I was thinking that Colonel Phillips would handpick a few when we return to base. He’s in charge of operations there and should know the men pretty well.” Steve glanced at his map then carried on.

“I actually have a few already in mind.” Bucky fixed the cuff of her jacket, recalling the men who had given it to her. If this team was what she thought it was going to be, the medley of characters that had been her cell neighbors would fit quite perfectly.

…

“With all due respect, sir, Private Barnes is equally as fit as the other members of the team.” Steve was doing all he could to contain his outrage.

“Maybe so, but you are forgetting the most important detail, Private Barnes is a woman.” Colonel Phillips replied.

“There is precedent. Agent Peggy carter was a vital member of the British attack force in the Great War. How on earth is this any different?” Steve snapped.

“The laws are different in merry old England, son, it’s not me, it’s Washington that says she can’t.” The colonel replied diplomatically. Steve opened his mouth to say something he was probably going to regret when the sound of commotion outside distracted him. “What the hell is going on out there?” The colonel called to a cartographer who was peering out the window.

“It looks like there’s going to be a fight, sir. You’ll want to see this.” The cartographer replied excitedly. Colonel Phillips grumbled something under his breath then stormed outside to see what all the fuss was about. There was a ring of people around two other soldiers, the two in the middle presumably about to fight. It was difficult to tell who they were, but Steve caught a glimpse of a blue jacket with a red star on the shoulder. Suddenly a woman’s voice rang clear over the rumble of the crowd.

“What the hell did you call me?” Bucky was positively livid. The soldier’s reply was obscured by the shouts and whistles of the others.

“This is going to get nasty quick.” Steve let out a low whistle, “Should I break it up, sir?” Steve asked, but his superior shook his head.

“I want to see how this ends.” The colonel replied. He and Steve managed to push to the front of the crowd, and could now clearly see Bucky and the soldier squaring off.

“You ain’t strong enough to be in the goddamn army, shit you ain’t smart enough. Why don’t you just go back home, babydoll, don’t you have seven-odd brats crying for their supper?” The soldier spat, and there were a few laughs from the audience. Suddenly, it seemed as if time had frozen, and Bucky threw herself at the man, proceeding to beat the living daylights out of him.

“I,” her fist connected with his jaw, snapping his head to one side, “can’t,” her elbow met his stomach and he buckled over, “have,” another punch to the jaw, “children.” She kicked him in the chest and he fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Bucky spat on the ground next to his face, and the soldier flinched. “I’ll be in the barracks if anyone else feels like pissing me off.” Bucky announced to a silent audience. With that, she stormed off, the soldiers parting like the Red Sea to let her pass. Colonel Phillips looked to Steve who was smiling proudly despite the storm of emotions inside. She had never told him.

“Quite the dame, isn’t she?” Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Quite the soldier.” The colonel paused, “You get your wish, Rogers, Sergeant Bucky Barnes is on the team.”

…

“Hey.” Steve knocked on the door to Bucky’s quarters. She had a room to herself due to the fact that she was the only woman with rank on basecamp. 

“Get lost.” Bucky snapped.

“You sure about that?” Steve asked as he pushed open the door. Bucky was sitting on her bed, looking at a framed photograph. She shrugged and Steve sat down next to her. He caught a glimpse of the photo Bucky was holding; it was a portrait of her family, all three children smiling like idiots, and her parents happy in each other’s arms. Bucky stuffed the photograph into her bedside table, but refused to look up at Steve.

“I’m never going to have that.” Bucky’s voice cracked and a fat tear tumbled down her cheek.

“Children?” Steve asked quietly.

“A family.” Bucky clarified, the tears flowing faster down her face. “No self respecting man is gonna settle down with the likes of me.”

“I—“ Steve stuttered, “I’m sure someone will. You’re a great girl, the strongest and most independent I’ve ever seen. Heck, Colonel Phillips just promoted you to Sergeant because you kicked that son-of-a-bitch’s ass and looked beautiful all the while.” Steve reached over and took her hand. “I know I can’t do that. I’m either beautiful or fighting, never both.” Bucky sniggered.

“You really mean it?” Bucky looked up at Steve and gave him a watery smile.

“Every word.” Steve kissed the top of her head and she leaned against his chest. He paused for a moment, then asked the question that had been nagging at his mind, “How long have you known?” 

“Since I was nineteen, in fact, the very day you came to tell me the war had started in Europe.” Bucky sighed into his chest.

“Oh. I’m so sorry. I should have realized. You were upset, and I—“ Steve began.  
“It’s alright. I wasn’t ready to tell you yet. Hell, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready.” They sat quietly for a while, with Steve running his hand through Bucky’s hair. 

“Hey Bucky.” Steve whispered.

“Yes, Steve?” Bucky replied, only the last remnants of tears on her cheek.

“How about, when all of this is over, we go dancing?” Steve felt Bucky smile against his chest.

“Sounds swell. But I thought you couldn’t dance.” Bucky almost laughed.

“You can teach me, and I’ll just have to do my best not to step on your toes.” Steve chuckled.

“It’s a deal.”

…

It had all happened so quickly. Minutes before, Bucky had been talking with her teammates, brushing up on her French, then zip-lining onto the speeding train and fighting her way through it. Now she was falling, the infinite grey sky being boxed in by sharp cliffs, the cold, cold air whipping at her hair and finding its way into her clothes, through the seams of that same blue jacket with the red star on the left shoulder. Then, a terrific pain, in the starred arm, that turned her vision red, and suddenly fighting for breath as an ice-cold blanket of water wrapped around her before dragging her down to the bottom and sweeping her away.

…

The lobby was busy, with S.H.I.E.L.D. agents buzzing about like bees, not even giving a second glance to the memorial wall where the names of fallen agents were inscribed. None even noticed the young man as he walked through the lobby, even though he was tall and wore no suit, just a plain white t-shirt and jeans. Steve sat down with his back against the memorial wall, a piece of cake with overly-sweet pink frosting on a plate in his lap, the name Jamie Rebecca Barnes inscribed above his head. 

“So. Bucky. It’s your birthday today.” Steve looked down at the pathetic piece of cake. “I don’t really know what to do. You would. You always do.” Steve held back tears, “Did.” He sighed. “It’s been really difficult. They say I was frozen for seventy years. That’s a helluva long time. They have all this new-fangled stuff, you would love it doll, but it makes Hydra tech look like scrap metal. And people keep on mentioning films I’ve never heard of, and aliens are real. Yeah. One of them attacked New York with an entire army. I almost—“ Steve tilted his head back in hopes of holding back tears, “—I almost went back to Brooklyn after that, you know, to see what it’s like now. But I couldn’t. Not without you. It would be so—so empty.” Steve was crying now, fat tears rolling down his cheek. He barely noticed when someone sat down next to him.

“Are you going to eat that cake?” A young woman’s voice that Steve didn’t recognize asked. He wiped away his tears and took a deep breath.

“No. I’m not really sure what I’m going to do with it.” Steve shrugged. The woman, maybe twenty-one years old, smiled up at him.

“Well then give it here!” She took the cake off of his lap and picked up the fork. “I’m Skye by the way.”

“Nice name.” Steve took in another breath.

“Thank you, I thought of it myself. Now listen, Steve,” She waved the fork at him, “I have gone through basically the exact thing you’re going through. Except less extreme. And my best friend didn’t die. Though I did almost, you know, die, if that counts for anything.” Skye took a bite of cake. “And I want to say I’m sorry.”

“How do you know my name?” Steve sniffed.

“Um, dude, everyone knows your name. You have comic books written about you.” Skye laughed. 

“Yeah I suppose I do.” Steve almost smiled.

“Mmhmm. The Adventures of Captain America and the Howling Commandoes. Featuring Bucky Barnes, the dame sure to blow you away.” Skye quoted the cover of one of the comics she had seen floating around Coulson’s office.

“They made her a sidekick. Funny really. Half the time, she was calling the shots. She was a hero. No superpowers required.” Steve remembered with a lopsided smile.

“I bet she was.” Skye sighed.   
…

“Those in the intelligence community who believe she exists call her the Winter Soldier. She’s a ghost, you’ll never find her.” Natasha Romanov, codename Black Widow, seemed almost frightened as she named their attacker. And if Black Widow was frightened, Steve had every reason to be scared shitless.

“She had a metal arm.” Steve replied, rolling his shoulder where the aforementioned arm had grabbed him, leaving five finger-shaped bruises.

“That’s no news. Whoever made the arm was seriously ahead of their time. The Winter Soldier has been implicated in every major crisis for the past seventy or so years.” Natasha opened a bottle of beer and took a drink.

“A super soldi er, or more than one person?” Steve followed, reclining on the couch of Sam’s apartment.

“Definitely a super soldier.” Natasha uncrossed her legs and rolled up her shirt partway. A large scar cut across her abdomen, ending in a region of puckered skin. “Nobody else could be fast enough to do this to me.” She rolled down her shirt, “Shot clean though, close range, I though I was done for, but she must have taken pity, because none of my more vital organs were hit.”

“Taken pity?” Steve queried.

“The Winter Soldier never misses.” Natasha replied gravely, “Not unless she wants you alive.” 

“But I thought all of the serum was destroyed. Hence Dr. Banner’s creation.” Steve was always slightly uncomfortable when discussing failed experiments inspired by his successful one, and this was no different a situation.

“I guess not. It was probably the Soviets, she does have a red star on her shoulder.” Natasha recrossed her legs and flipped on the TV.

…

“What’s my assignment?” The Winter Soldier flexed her metal arm, feeling the nerves in her shoulder react to the movement in a way that was not entirely unpleasant.

“Fury must be exterminated. He poses too great a threat to be kept alive any longer.” The Soldier’s engineer stuttered in a German accent. 

“I told you long ago that he posed a threat. It is only a matter of time before he discovers our motives.” The Soldier readjusted her vest and swept her hair from her eyes. Even though her hair was braided in the back, her last haircut had left her with bangs not long enough to fit in any sort of ponytail, so her hair was constantly falling in her eyes.

“But you also told us that the Widow would be worth more to us alive, and she has single-handedly, though unwittingly, destroyed at least six of our operations.” The engineer snapped.

“She will be valuable, I assure you. But what of the one with the shield? He’s strong, about as much as I am, and could bring down this operation.” The Soldier made a fist with her bionic hand.

“Not yet. He is important, more than you realize. Kill him only when I say.” The engineer’s expression did not change, but a hint of guilt crept into his mind, making him question whether or not it was morally right to separate two individuals with so much history. But the engineer had long since learned that Hydra did not favor those who were morally right.

“Fine. When do I leave?” The Soldier stood and glared at the engineer with an intensity that would never cease to frighten him.

“Immediately. I would wish you good luck—“ the engineer began.

“But I don’t need it.” The Winter Soldier scowled, then put on her mask and goggles. This time she would not fail at her objective. This time, Nicholas Fury would die.

…

Steve looked at the mask that had torn off in his hands, then back to the Winter Soldier. She bared her teeth and ran at him, the dark oils around her eyes making her look not unlike a grinning skull. Steve’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

“Bucky?” He lowered his shield and stared at his friend in awe. The Winter Soldier faltered in confusion.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” The Soldier stopped dead in her tracks, mind flushed with partial memories. Falling, waking up on an operating table with a hand that was not hers, dancing. Dancing?

“Please, Bucky, let me help you!” Steve pleaded, watching his friend’s eyes flicker with a thought. “Bucky, please.” The Soldier narrowed her eyes and pulled a knife from her leg holster.

“Stop calling me that!” She growled, then ran at him, ready to fight. Steve dropped his shield.

“I won’t fight you.” Steve raised his hands in surrender. The Soldier threw herself at him anyway, then stopped when the knife blade was inches from his heart. She looked up at him and flexed her arm.

“There is no honor in killing someone who refuses to fight.” She let the hand holding the knife fall to her side. “But if you raise your shield against me again, your body will float in the Potomac. Is this understood?” Her voice was tinged with a Russian accent, her forehead was beaded with sweat, and her metal arm glinted in the light. Steve wanted nothing more but to embrace her, but given the threat she had just delivered, he decided against it.

“Dear god, Bucky, where have you been? What did they do to you?” Steve’s eyes filled with sorrow.

“I was—“ The Soldier shook her head and another puzzle piece fell into place. A name. Bucky turned her head to one side and looked at the patriotically colored man in front of her. “Steve?” Suddenly, the bridge erupted in flame as a car exploded. Steve moved to tackle Bucky, but by the time he hit the ground, the Winter Soldier was gone.

…

“Did you know this? Did you?” Steve demanded.

“I had my suspicions.” Nick Fury, who by some act of god, medical science, or something in-between, was still alive, replied.

“And you didn’t tell me? Gee whiz boys, I bet the Captain’s brain is frozen solid, there’s no way he’s going to be able to handle the news that his best friend who is supposed to be dead isn’t, and is instead tearing up DC. And you know boys, we definitely shouldn’t mention the metal arm!” Steve slammed his fist on the table, denting the metal and sending medical equipment flying. Natasha and Sam dodged an airborne AED.

“Captain, I get that you’re upset, but I need you to call down. Best friend or not, if the Winter Soldier—“

“Bucky.” Steve corrected.

“—Bucky doesn’t back down, we are going to have to treat her like any other threat. Do you understand me? This is the same thing we would do if Natasha or Clint went rogue. It is S.H.I.E.L.D. procedure.” Fury spoke quietly, but his words had a certain weight.

“Well it turns out that S.H.I.E.L.D. procedure is also Hydra procedure. The same sons of bitches I crashed an airplane into the North Sea to get rid of. The reason Bucky fell in the first place. We have to save her.” Steve began to pace, waving his arms around frantically.

“Steve. She’s not the kind of person you save. She’s the kind of person you stop.” Sam replied gravely, and Steve put his fist into the wall.

…

“Who was that man on the bridge?” The Soldier asked her engineers as they tinkered with her arm and washed the eye black from her face.

“Nobody.” The engineer from before replied.

“I knew him.” The Soldier snapped as the engineers strapped her to the chair and prepared the machine.

“He was trying to confuse you.” Another engineer replied.

“But I knew him.” The Soldier shook her head, but eventually accepted the mouthguard and braced herself for what would come next. The pain itself was excruciating, but the aftereffects almost soothing. Gone were the worries and the confusion, replaced by a new sense of purpose. The pain ceased and the Soldier spat out the mouthguard.

“Your next mission is to kill Captain America.” An engineer stated apathetically as the others unstrapped the Soldier from her chair.

“When do I start?” The Soldier stood up and rolled her bionic shoulder before snatching a Colt M4A1 from the armory table and checking its sights.

“Immediately.” The engineer repeated the trigger word as he motioned to his colleague, who brought the Soldier her eyeblack as the mask and goggles were well and truly missing.

“Good. The sooner the better.” The Soldier sneered, strapping the gun across her back and sliding a knife in the empty holster on her thigh.

“Bring back his shield. That’s the only vib—oh.” The engineer stopped when he realized that the Winter Soldier had disappeared. Outside the bunker, the Soldier laughed viciously.

“Bring back his shield? Do they need proof I’ve completed my mission? Stupid bastards. I’ll bring back his head.” The Soldier paused to the sound of whimpering. She looked around and found the source of the sound. At the side of the road, a young boy, maybe fiver or six years old, was clutching a teddy bear and staring at the bionic-armed assassin who had just stepped out of an abandoned bank.

“What are you?” the boy whimpered.

“Who. Who are you. I’m a person, not a thing.” The Soldier snapped. In response, the boy pointed at her metal arm. The Soldier flexed her fingers and gave the boy a bemused grin. “Alright kid. I get your point.” She would never admit it to anyone, but she had always had a soft spot for children. 

“Are you gonna kill me?” The boy eeked bravely.

“Are you Captain America?” The Soldier hovered her hand over her knife, sensing trouble. There were not nearly enough cars on the main road to her left. 

“Nope.” The boy gulped.

“Well, you’re in luck, kid. Now run home and get some ice cream, ok?” The boy began to run away, “And kid?”

“Yeah lady?” The boy stopped running.

“Don’t tell anyone you saw me here.” The Soldier glared at him.

“Ok.” With that, the boy took off, biting on his bear’s ear so he wouldn’t scream.

…

Steve sighed with momentary relief as the helicarrier began to tumble from the sky. S.H.I.E.L.D. was going down, taking Hydra with it.

“Now what? We both die?” The Soldier demanded, her arm pinned beneath a fallen support beam.

“Well, I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.” Steve called back, jumping down to the bottom level. “But I don’t feel like dying today.” He noted to himself. He took a deep breath, and went over to where the Soldier was trapped and shoved the beam off of her. The Soldier refused to get up, and simply stared at Steve in awe.

“What did you just say?” She narrowed her eyes.

“I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.” Steve repeated sadly, offering his hand to help her up. The Soldier accepted, her eyes flashing with memories.

“I told someone that once, a very long time ago.” The Soldier flexed her metal arm, a tic that had never seemed to wear off. “I was so young then.”

“You don’t look a day over ninety-five.” Steve smiled mournfully, feeling the ground waver beneath his feet. If they were going to get out of here, it had to be soon.

“And you’re at least twenty-three, right?” The Soldier looked up at Steve, her eyes welling with tears that hadn’t fallen for over half a century. She blinked and they disappeared. The two of them stood in silence for a moment, watching the water rush up to meet the falling helicarrier. Suddenly, a loose platform uncoupled from the overhead walkway and fell, crashing through the window Steve was standing on, and carrying him, along with a great deal of broken glass and twisted metal, down into the river.

“Steve!” Bucky screamed, and without a moment’s hesitation, dove through the gaping hole into the churning water below.

…

“It was around ten forty-five last night when a young woman with a shield strapped to her back dragged a young man, who we now know to be Captain Steven Rogers aka Captain America into the emergency room at George Washington University Hospital and collapsed. Both were admitted to the ICU for observation, particularly Rogers, who is still unconscious. Hospital sources say that the woman has some sort of bionic arm that no-one has seen the likes of before; even from Stark Industries, creator of the Iron Man. Hundreds of fans are waiting outside for a glimpse of the great American hero, but there are still questions surrounding the mysterious woman. Who is she? Where did she come from? And what is the secret of her metal—“ The television blinked out as a metallic finger pressed a button on the remote.

“Arm.” Bucky whispered, shifting in her jacket. The sleeve was tight around her left arm, but at least it hid the shining metal from the prying eyes of nurses. She would probably have to invest in a glove. Or a variety of gloves in different colors. Or a plane ticket to the Soviet Union. Or Russia. Whatever the hell it was called.

“I have just as many questions as you do, Miss Barnes.” A well-dressed man with a goatee had appeared in the doorway.

“Sergeant Barnes, 107th Codebreaking Division, Howling Commandoes.” Bucky corrected, partially out of habit, and partially so she could hear someone, especially herself, call her something other than the Winter Soldier.

“Please excuse the faux pas, my name is Tony Stark, you may have heard of me.” Tony stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. 

“You’re here to ask about this?” Bucky raised her left hand and wiggled her metal fingers. “Because I’m sure you have a thousand questions. I contrary to your judgment, only have one.” Tony sat nonchalantly in a chair across from Bucky and glanced at his nails.

“And what might that be?” Tony raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Is Steve going to be alright?” Her reply was phrased more as a statement that as a question.

“He slept for seventy years while frozen in a block of ice. I think he can survive a twenty foot—“

“Forty foot.” Bucky corrected.

“—Forty foot fall into a river.” Tony, despite his cool demeanor, glanced worriedly at his friend before turning his gaze back to Bucky. He smiled slightly; despite all Bucky had been through, she was damn well beautiful. But almost definitely off-limits, for reasons ranging from Pepper Potts to Steve Rogers himself.

“You know, I met a Howard Stark once.” Bucky ran her thumb over the back of Steve’s hand, listening to the heart monitor’s pip.

“And what did you think of my old man?” Tony was used to this time-traveller crap from Steve, but not once had the First Avenger mentioned Tony’s father.

“Shameless flirt, very sure of himself, a genius in his own right.” Bucky sighed, clutching Steve’s hand infinitesimally tighter. She wasn’t going to mention that those character traits were all she could recall about the man. 

“It appears his character traits were indeed genetic.” Tony laughed. “Now, babe, to get to the point, are you going to let me look at that arm of yours or not?” Bucky’s eyes widened.

“Here? Now?” Bucky looked worriedly out the window where she could see that even now, a crowd of fans with smartphones was camped outside the hospital.

“They can’t see you. And the nurse on duty promised with a cherry on top that she’ll skip her rounds to this room today.” Tony grinned. Bucky paused for a moment, then let go of Steve’s hand and shrugged out of her jacket. She bit her lip as the scar tissue where her skin met the metal was exposed, expecting Tony to gasp in awe or in disgust. She was surprised when he didn’t give her shoulder a second glance and began to take notes on a projected screen from his cell phone.

“It doesn’t bother you?” Bucky opened and closed her hand, sending ripples up and down the metal.

“You’re not the only one with a piece of metal in you.” Tony tapped his chest, and to Bucky’s surprise, there was a distinct clink. “Now, Sergeant, does it open? Did anyone ever have to do maintenance?”

“The engineers would, though I have some field knowledge, in case it would suddenly malfunction. The star is also a button which opens the arm for alterations.” Bucky looked down at her left shoulder, particularly at the ever-present red star, there not because she had been working for the Soviets, but because her captors had believed she was. All due to that blue jacket of hers. Bucky wondered for a moment if she could get another one made. Tony lifted Bucky’s arm experimentally.

“May I?” His pointer finger hovered over the star. Bucky nodded, and he pressed down, opening the chamber so they could see the inner workings of the arm.

“When did you get this?” Tony asked, amazed.

“It was there when I woke up. 1944, 1945.” Bucky was desensitized to the light and moving parts that made up her prosthesis. What she wasn’t used to was the care Tony was taking not to hurt her. Any minute now she was expecting the mouthguard and whatever the hell had been frying her brain.

“These guys were seriously ahead of their time. It reminds me of Asgardian workmanship. I wonder if there was one in your midst. In which case he or she would probably still be alive. Though I could just ask blondie.” Tony was talking to himself more than to Bucky.

“Blondie?” Bucky queried.

“Yeah, he would probably know.” Tony took a few more notes then closed the compartment. Bucky rolled her shoulder, glad to have her arm back in one piece. “Do you mind if I do a few more tests?” Tony lifted Bucky’s hand delicately.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be.” Bucky sighed, looking over at Steve, who was still lying unconscious.

…

It didn’t take long for the nurses to get used to Bucky. They often chattered about how the poor girl should find a new boyfriend. But when she slept overnight at the hospital, more often than not passed out in the chair next to the bed, the nurses would be sure to drape a blanket over her curled-up frame and leave her in peace. The night before had been one of those nights, and Bucky was an American flag-colored ball of exhaustion when the sun peeked over the horizon. In fact, her overnight stays were beginning to take a toll on her internal clock, and she no longer woke up at exactly six forty-five every morning. So today, at seven thirty, when her subconscious noticed sound and movement, she grabbed whoever was standing over her and pinned him against the far wall in a matter of seconds. Maybe it was PTSD, maybe it was something worse, but this reaction would never wear off.

“Hey, hey, it’s me! You don’t need to strangle me!” Steve half gasped-half laughed as Bucky’s mind slowly began to focus on the situation. She felt the sudden urge to run, to get the hell out of there and never come back. But then, who was ‘me’?

“Steve?” She whipped her head around to look at the hospital bed, which was indeed empty. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Just long enough to tell he was going to wake up, then she was going to disappear. There was a safe house…

“Good morning to you too.” Steve smiled, raising his hands in surrender. “Could you let me go now?” Bucky looked down at Steve’s chest, where she had her arm held fast across. She slowly let go, still in shock that her friend was finally awake.

“You were out for three weeks.” Bucky stepped back, almost afraid. “The doctors didn’t know what to think of you.” She glanced at the door, calculating how long it would take to get out of the room. “But I found your shield. And Tony Stark came by, and someone named Sam, and the same dame with red hair—“ Bucky’s voice was muffled by Steve’s chest as he pulled her into a tight embrace. At first, every muscle in Bucky’s body went taut, but eventually she melted into him and let him run his fingers through her hair. Maybe she didn’t have to run just yet, though the window was still a viable option.

“How long have you been here?” Steve asked quietly, twisting a strand of Bucky’s hair between his fingers.

“Well I left every once and a while to shower and eat and change clothes and the like. Your friend Sam has a nice place. I slept there sometimes. But I was mostly here. You were asleep the whole time, so I read The Great Gatsby aloud. Did you know they made a film out of it? In color and everything. I haven’t seen it yet. I was hoping to see it with you once you woke up.” Bucky would have kept talking if Steve hadn’t taken her head in both his hands so she would look up at his face. 

“Bucky, I don’t blame you for any of this mess. Neither does Natasha nor Sam. Do you understand me? Steve spoke slowly and clearly.

“But I shot the Black Widow. I tore the Falcon out of the sky. So many people are dead because of me—“

“Nothing was your fault.” Steve stated, and Bucky nodded weakly, the faintest expression of relief across her face that mirrored. “Good. Because I couldn’t bear to lose you again.” With that, Steve kissed Bucky, tenderly, careful not to frighten her, as a first kiss with an assassin should always be. Bucky’s lips parted in a small smile, and she kissed him back.

…

“This is silly.” Bucky smoothed down her dress for the tenth time, feeling the familiar texture of fabric against her fingers. 

“Correction, this is adorable. Do not tell me that I wasted my time breaking into the Met to steal your dress.” Natasha Romanov fit her pseudonym quite well, even when in civilian clothes, her posture and attitude reminded Bucky of a spider. 

“There is a secondhand store across the street.” Bucky laughed, “I can see it from my bedroom.” 

“No, this is special, I’m not letting you wear anything but this dress.” Natasha grinned, but the pun was lost on her time-traveller friend. Bucky stood in front of the mirror and twirled around, watching as the petticoat swirled around her knees.

“It is very pretty.” Bucky admired the red and pink flowered fabric. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

“I know he will. Now let me do your hair, you’re meeting him in an hour and you don’t even have your makeup ready.” Natasha huffed.

“I was an assassin for seventy years. Do you really think he’ll care whether or not I wear lipstick?” Bucky pouted, waving her metal arm about. “And what about this thing?”

“I’m an assassin now, babe. Trust me, you want lipstick. And eyeliner. And metallic limbs are all the rage these days, just ask our good friend Tony Stark.” Natasha laughed, putting the slightest of smiles on Bucky’s face.

…

“Isn’t it a little old-fashioned?” Steve adjusted the cuffs of a very familiar olive-green uniform. “And where did Natasha say she got this?”

“The Air and Space Museum, they have an exhibit on the one and only—“ Sam chuckled, twirling Steve’s cap on one finger.

“Captain America. I’ve been there, idiot, seen the spread, signed a few autographs.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Well Nat did basically the same thing, except she stole your uniform.” Sam replied, “Though I don’t think she signed any autographs.”

“You guys aren’t gonna follow us around, right?” Steve suddenly had the horrifying vision of Sam and Natasha stalking his date with disposable cameras clicking.

“We were considering making it a double date.” Sam teased, tossing Steve his cap.

 

“Yeah don’t do that.” Steve wasn’t entirely sure whether or not Sam was kidding.

“Noted, I’ll put away my dancing shoes.” Sam laughed as Steve straightened the cap on his head. “Well, you’d better get going. Are you actually going to walk to Brooklyn?”

“No, I’ll take a taxi. But I might get out a few blocks early. I haven’t been in that part of town since, well, since I lived there.” Steve smiled mournfully at his friend.

“Hey, man, seriously, smile like you’re happy. That girl Bucky is fine as any girl you are ever gonna meet, and you two are going to have a great time. She is not going to run out on you. Not today, she’s as nerdy as you are. Tomorrow maybe—“ Sam laughed, “Dude, I swear, it’s like you’re thirteen and Natasha and I are physically shoving you into rooms and locking the door.” Sam crossed his arms.

“You’re a punk.” Steve laughed.

“Jerk.” Sam snapped jokingly in response. “Now get your ass out of here. There’s only so many cosplayers I can deal with in one night.”

“Cosplayers?” Steve narrowed his eyes in confusion.

 

“I said go!”

…

Steve was given a few confused glances as he walked down the street, and a guy with a camera tried to stop him in order to take a picture for some blog, but Steve waved him away, and soon he blended into the crowd. New York was used to crazy, and he was probably the best-dressed crazy any New Yorker had seen in a while, so he was a welcome change. Brooklyn was a lot cleaner than he remembered, but the brick buildings were mostly intact, and the street plan hadn’t changed much. The sensation was like returning home after a few years and finding out that your house had been sold to someone else, and although they had kept it basically the same, the home was no longer yours. That’s how Steve felt until he saw a young woman standing on the doorstep to her old apartment, looking around in anticipation.

“Bucky!” Steve called once he was close enough. She turned towards the sound of his voice and smiled brightly, waving hello. She was beautiful, the same girl so full of life he had gone dancing with so many years earlier. The haunted look in her eyes had been slowly evaporating over time, but now, if only for this instant, it was gone.

“Hi Steve.” Bucky’s red lips still held the curve of a smile. She twirled in her dress. “How do I look?”

“Fantastic, as always.” Steve gave her a lopsided grin that matched the jaunty angle of his cap.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, soldier.” Bucky fixed an imperceptible wrinkle in Steve’s tie.

“So, are we going to go dancing? I have a promise to keep.” Steve put out his arm for Bucky to take. Bucky looked down at her own arm, and its ever-present red star, before shaking away her qualms and accepting. The couple stepped slowly down the street, transporting themselves, and all those who paid them any attention, back in time, when love wasn’t that much simpler, but expressing it was.

“So, which dance hall do you have in mind? There can’t be so many these days.” Bucky hopped over a puddle, her heels clicking on the pavement.

“The Empress.” Steve announced as they turned a corner. The marquee was different, instead of lightbulbs, green neon script spelled out the name of the nightclub. And instead of young couples and friends wandering in at their leisure, a line stretched around the block.

“I can’t believe it’s still open! It’s been so long.” Bucky was wide-eyed with surprise.

“It’s not the Empress we know, it’s changed.” Steve smiled as he saw Bucky, the old Bucky, bubbling with curiosity.

“It’s changed a lot!” Bucky uncoupled herself from Steve and made her way to the front of the line to speak with the bouncer. Steve hung back, amused. He had done practically the same thing when Tony had tried to hook him up with some dame from S.H.I.E.L.D. That had gone terribly, about as terribly as this was going . Bucky and the bouncer were already in some sort of an argument.

“Is hipster some sort of new-fangled insult? I will have you know, sir, that I’m not normally this cute.” Bucky clenched her metal fist in preparation of a fight. Her other hand felt for the knife normally strapped to her thigh, but there was none.

“Ok, I understand you’re some kind of fangirl, but you and your boyfriend need to get in line like everybody else.” The bouncer almost started laughing.

“Uh, man,” An eighteen-year-old boy ironically wearing a Captain America t-shirt spoke up, “That arm’s real. Have you seen the news? I’m pretty sure this chick’s the Winter Soldier.” He took a step back as Bucky glared at him. “I would have expected you to rappel through a skylight or something.”

“I’m off-duty. But do not call me that.” Bucky growled, raising her metallic arm. The bouncer grabbed it to push her back, the let go in shock. 

“Damn. That shit is real.” The bouncer’s eyes widened. Steve took that as his cue. He sidled up next to Bucky and put his arm around her shoulder.

“Is this gentleman bothering you?” He gave her a little smirk. Bucky had played this kind of game before, when on duty in Europe. Granted, all of the Howling Commandoes had played a role, but this was a smaller scale, so only one would have to do.

“D-dude are you—“ The teenager gasped, then whipped out his cellphone and took a picture of himself with Bucky and Steve in the background.

“Oh my god! It’s Captain America!” Someone screamed excitedly.

“It looks like you guys aren’t enemies like the media made it seem.” The teenager noted. “Wait, didn’t you-“ He pointed at Bucky, “-Like blow up S.H.I.E.L.D.? Because it was wicked.”

“Wicked?” Bucky recoiled slightly.

“He means it in a good way.” Steve whispered. 

“It’s classified.” Bucky gave the kid a wink and he almost started drooling.

“So are we going to stand out here all night?” Steve looked around nonchalantly.

“I could always rappel us through a skylight.” Bucky giggled.

“Um, hell no.” The kid piped, then turned to the crowd and began to chant: let them in! The crowd joined in, and Bucky gave the bouncer a self-satisfied smirk.

“Ok! Come in. Just don’t sent the FBI or what have you on my ass.” The bouncer eyed Bucky’s arm fearfully as he opened the velvet rope and let them pass.

“We’ll send the Black Widow instead, and trust me, she’s worse.” Steve laughed. Just before Bucky dragged him inside, he turned to the teenager, who had taken out a film camera and was snapping photos. “Thanks kid, what’s your name anyway?”

“Peter, um, Peter Parker.” He replied as the couple began to walk away, “I’m on Twitter!”

“Twitter?” 

…

Maybe the world had changed, maybe the Empress had changed, and the style of music and dancing had definitely changed. But Bucky and Steve had changed too, at least since the last time they had gone dancing. Not all of this change was for the better. Bucky would still wake up at night, drenched in sweat, her life literally flashing before her eyes. She would still put the occasional CIA agent in a stranglehold, or go a little too far when training with Natasha. Sometimes she would climb out the window in the middle of the night and catch the first train out, to find the families of those she had killed, to right her wrongs, to swim in the Indian Ocean and wash the sins from her hair and her skin. But the fear would only wear off with time, and right now, when she and Steve were doing the jitterbug in the middle of a crowd of gyrating, sweaty bodies all bouncing to music that sounded not unlike radio tuning frequencies, Bucky didn’t mind that Steve was taller than her, and had improved his dancing skills. Because change was something she could deal with when she had someone to hold her while she relived her fall; to convince the unsuspecting CIA agent that no, she wasn’t crazy; to help her beat the crap out of six or seven punching bags when Natasha had had enough. To wait patiently for her to come home, because she always came home. Because change wasn’t all that bad when she had someone to share it with.


End file.
